Weeping endures but for a night,
    Joy cometh with the morning light;
Joy cometh of celestial birth,
    Unsullied by the blight of earth.

Joy cometh faithful hearts to thrill,
    That fears of change no more will chill;
Transporting joy, that fills the soul,
    While everlasting ages roll.

Then, mourning pilgrim, upward gaze,
    Beyond this dark and thorny maze
A joy for every tear is found,
    A healing balm for every wound.

No sorrow there shall dim the eye,
    No wintry winds or storms are nigh,
No sighs borne on the fragrant air;
    But all shall in the glory share.

Let hope thy bosom cheer, forlorn,
    To boldly breast each rising storm;
For whatsoe’er thy grief may be,
    The morning bringeth joy to thee.

Awake! For lo, not distant far,
    The rising of the Morning Star;
O watch to catch the new-born ray,
    That ushers in a cloudless day.

Hail! Glorious morn! Whose radiant light,
    Shall bid the darkness take it flight
Shall chase the shades of gloom away
    And night be turned to endless day.

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